Daily Prompts With Liv
by sapphireswimming
Summary: A collection of short, daily oneshots... while supplies last.
1. Heart

**So Danny Phantom SG-1 and I have started a challenge to write a little something every day based on randomly generated word prompts (at the absolute worst time for both of us, haha, so we'll see how long it lasts).**

 **Liv hasn't posted any of hers to Fanfiction yet, but they're amazing and you can read them on my tumblr tag "daily prompts with liv"**

* * *

 **Heart**

4/25/16

* * *

He doesn't know what he is.

His powers didn't come with any instructions or any answers. It had been an accident. A mistake. And now he is here but…

He has spent years not knowing what he is.

All this time and he still doesn't even know if he's dead or alive. Or both. Or neither.

He is still a teenager, he thinks. With classes and chores. With nagging parents and bullies waiting for him in the hallway between periods.

But can he really believe that when he blasts ghosts with ectoplasmic energy built up around his hands and destroys city blocks with the ensuing chaos?

When he flies around Amity Park, he doesn't need to breathe and no matter how desperately he looks for one, he cannot find a pulse.

His rings transform him back to a living breathing boy again, blood pumping gently, insistently, from his chest. But if he lets the light wash over him again, he is cold and powerful, with energy thrumming in his core.

One…

… the other.

Human. Ghost.

Dead? Alive?

He doesn't know anymore, what this makes him. He bleeds both red and green.

He is a ghost with a curfew. A student who can walk through walls.

Spectra asked him once what he was and he didn't have an answer. A ghost trying to fit in with humans? Or a creepy little boy with creepy little powers?

Both, he had said then. Neither, he corrected. Then, I don't know.

He still doesn't know. Half of one thing and half of another but not really anything himself. Frostbite had called him a child of two worlds, but he wonders if he belongs to either, really.

It's hard to believe it when on one hand he is hunted down by his own parents and an overzealous ex-girlfriend, and on the other, half of the ghosts in the Ghost Zone seemed to make it their personal mission to escape out into the human world just to make his life a living nightmare.

He fights ghosts. But he is one. He protects humans, but they hate him for it.

There are only three people in the world who accept both of his halves, like him for… whatever it is he is.

Jazz covers for him when she can, eases his life at home, and stops to tell him how proud she is of what he is doing. Sam patches him up, stitching wounds in his side as she is always quick to assure him that his powers are good and make him unique. Tucker keeps him sane, keeps him grounded, and says not to worry because whatever Danny is, he's still Danny, and that's enough.

He tries to believe that. Really, he does. But it's just so hard. Jazz would have a field day with the things that went through his brain, because even now, years later, he still waffles between both sides, staring at his hands with glowing green eyes as he tries to understand who he is.

What he is.

He is tired and hungry, bruised and upset. He is bleeding and he is exhausted and he cries when it gets to be too much.

He keeps getting knocked down, driven into the pavement. But he gets back up on his feet every time.

After he fails his math tests, he watches movies with his friends, and stares at the stars that he will never have a chance to study. When his parents shoot him, he escapes back to his room and spends dinner complimenting his mom's cooking (if it isn't trying to eat him) and laughs at his dad's lame jokes.

Dash beats him up, Paulina calls him a loser, and Valerie avoids his eyes. But he saves them all, time and time again.

He's terrified of still turning evil and destroying the world with the awful rage he knows is inside him. But he blushes when he brushes up against Sam's hand as they walk home.

And maybe that means that Tucker is right. Because it just proves that there's still some part of him that's human.

Even if it doesn't beat, he still has a heart.


	2. Exigent

**Many of these could be posted as standalone oneshots, but I've decided (at least for now) not to break up the collection. I'm pacing the posts here but my tumblr tag "daily prompts with liv" will always be up to date with both of our fics if you'd like to read whatever we've done.  
**

 **Oddly getting some Star Wars Episode One and Nimona vibes off of this one?**

* * *

 **Exigent**

4/26/16

Exacting or requiring immediate aid or action, pressing, critical

* * *

The ghosts shiver as another presence enters the room, one that is separate from theirs, distinctly different. Many of the strategists flinch as Vlad walks into the chamber, footsteps echoing on the floor that no one else uses.

The Observants do not flinch. But they scowl as much as they dare while trying to maintain control of the situation and keep everyone's attention on them.

No one bothers to ask Vlad how he knew they had convened.

Heads swivel (some in nearly a full circle) as he walks around the room. His red eyes pierce those of every being in attendance before he comes to a stop at the head of the table.

One of the Observants raises a pointed finger to continue his point but Vlad speaks before he can say a word.

"There is a new halfa," he says. There is shuffling around the room, but little surprise.

He stares at them hard. "You already knew," he bites, a statement more than a question. "And yet you haven't said a word about him."

He rises off the floor to hover cross-legged above them. One of the Observants begins to object as he starts to preside over the meeting but Vlad holds up a finger, crackling with deep pink energy, telling him to be patient.

The Observant veers back in surprise, too speechless to even respond to the outright usurpation of power. Vlad uses the time to his advantage.

"You cannot ignore him," Vlad says. "You cannot ignore this one."

The ghosts are all looking down now, refusing to meet his eyes.

"You are supposed to train them," he says, sparks flying across his cape as he realizes that they have no intention of doing so, that they never had any intention of doing so. "It is your responsibility," he presses.

Some of the council are shaking their heads. They have never liked this appointed task.

"Halfas never amount to much," one is stupid enough to say, and Vlad's eyes narrow to red darts. "Apart from you, of course," the ghost is quick to add.

But it's not worth it. No one can spare the time. He's already too old to truly be acclimated to a second world…

Vlad hears their excuses and something he thought long-conquered begins to stir inside him. He swoops down from his perch at the head of the table, now hovers behind them as he circles around the room.

He hmms as he moves from one ghost to the next, making each one shiver and fidget in turn.

"I know you're busy," he purrs. "I know you have other matters to attend to. I know that you're worried about the spate of recent disturbances in the Border Lands. The breaking of the Aragon's Treaty. The awakening of the Ancient Town."

He curls around a ghost before continuing his litany of woes. "The disappearance of nearly every level one ghost that tries to fly by sector 7-ax)…" Vlad makes his way full circle now to hover behind the two Observants. "Not to mention the disturbing rumors that the Ring of Rage wasn't actually destroyed…"

Heads turn to follow his movements in alarm.

"But you should find Daniel," he says, tone lightening but no less threatening than it had been. "At least… explain to him what he's become," he stresses. "You can't leave him to figure this out on his own."

"Not like we did with you, you mean?" a hazy ghost asks across from him, solidifying into impossibly long rows of teeth. "You turned out just fine."

Vlad's eyes never break contact as he floats through the table. The ghost cowers and shimmers back into fog when he stands in front of it. Satisfied, Vlad lands on the ground once more.

"The boy shows promise," he tries, switching tactics. "He can be powerful- very powerful."

The second Observant makes a noise of derision and turns on the orb behind him with a wave of his hand. "Look at him," he says, the disdain in his voice obvious as everyone turns to look at the gangly boy.

"He's a twig even by human standards. Unsocialized, with poor grades, an unremarkable family, if you put the research into ghosts aside. Insignificant by any standards," he declares. "Not unique," he continues, passing final judgment.

"Except for his powers," Vlad says.

"Even those do not make him completely unique," the Observant retorts scathingly, running its large eye up and down Vlad's frame.

Vlad sneers back at him. "I was," he says, "and that still wasn't enough for you, was it?"

The Observants bluster their false denials, and every ghost sitting around the table breaks eye contact again, except the one in the purple cloak. Vlad meets his scarred eye for a moment, aura flaring dangerously before he forces himself to look away and turn back to the Observants.

"Well let me tell you," he says, voice dropping low, though every other voice in the chamber suddenly falls quiet, "that you need this boy. You need him and what he will become. In fact," he says, the corners of his lip twitching upward, "it would have been the only way that you could possibly survive."

"Wha- what do you mean?" the first Observant asked, failing to cover the waver in his voice.

"I mean," Vlad says, fangs growing longer as the blue tint of his skin deepened. "That since you won't take him… I will." His hands flared to life with flaming power. "And you already have no chance of beating me."


	3. Sickness

**Surprisingly, this was not as angsty as it easily could have been.  
**

* * *

 **Sickness**

4/30/16

* * *

Danny dreaded the flu season with a passion. He had enough to deal with on a regular basis to get sidelined by a bug or a virus for a week at a time.

The ghosts certainly didn't get sick and they didn't care if he did either. Or, maybe they did, because there always seemed to be more of them trying to get out of the Ghost Zone whenever he was under the weather.

Those were the days when he had to ask Sam and Tucker to take over the bulk of his patrols, and hope that Valerie would notice the upswing in ghostly activity and put in some extra hours of her own. Of course, that meant longer hours, less sleep, and less time to do homework for all of them. He really hated asking them to sacrifice that for him just because some kid at school had coughed all over him.

Thankfully, Danny didn't get sick often.

But when he did, it lingered, maliciously, and refused to leave without the parting gift of a cough or a runny nose.

This time, it was an itch that made him want to tear his nose off his face days ago. With it came the sniffles which were loud and annoyed his classmates almost as much as they annoyed him.

The worst part, though, was that they culminated pretty spectacularly with a resounding sneeze every couple hours.

If it was any more frequent than that, he'd have to find some excuse to stay home longer, because, for some reason, whenever he sneezed this violently, he seemed to lose all control of his ghost half, and his powers had about two seconds to go haywire without his being able to stop it.

So far, he'd gotten temporarily glowing eyes even in human form, dropped halfway through the floor, frozen his carton of milk and grilled cheese sandwich, flown several feet back in the gym (which would have been suspicious if they hadn't been playing dodge ball at the time), and sneezed his pants off.

It was getting harder and harder to keep people from noticing when it happened in the middle of class, and he didn't always have much advanced warning.

He figured he was running out of luck by the end of the day as soon as he remembered that he was supposed to have a meeting in Lancer's office after class was over. To discuss making up the week of assignments he'd already missed, hopefully, and not how bad his grades were in general.

With a sigh, Danny packed up all his books, said goodbye to Sam and Tucker when he dumped his bag into his locker, and made his way to the Vice Principal's office.

The door was open but Lancer wasn't around. Danny had just sat down in his accustomed seat to wait for him to get back when his nose began to tingle.

He didn't have time to get up and make it back out the door before he sneezed, the "ACHOO" ringing so loudly it began to tap into his ghostly wail.

Too late did he realize that his most destructive power had activated this time and actual green waves were coming out of his mouth. Throwing up his hands did nothing and when he dared to open his eyes again, all of the papers had flown off of Lancer's desk and the flowerpot on the windowsill (as well as the window behind it) was cracked, the dirt spilling out onto the floor.

Danny stared in horror, then turned quickly, hoping he could back out of the room before Lancer knew he had ever been there.

He was too late, though, because Lancer was already standing in the doorway behind him, shouting, "Crime and Punishment!" as he stared between Danny and the mess in his office.


	4. Did you Hear

**Not actually a "daily prompt with liv"- this one came from a tumblr ask game and materialized on Angst Day.**

 **all-is-not-lost-at-all requested Danny and Jazz with "did you hear something?"  
**

* * *

 **Did you Hear  
**

10/1/16

Danny Phantom Day of Angst

* * *

There was a loud crash. Danny and Jazz both jumped, turning to stare at each other wide-eyed.

"Did you hear that?" Jazz asked, but Danny shook his head and swallowed thickly.

"Uh, what? Nooooo," he denied too loudly. "I didn't hear anything," he said. "Nothing at all. Certainly didn't hear anything like ghosts upstairs," he said with a nervous laugh before breaking off with a wince and staring up at his sister to see if she would buy his bluff.

She didn't, of course, but her eyes widened in understanding. He still didn't know that she knew. He wasn't going to blow his cover around her. Which meant that she had to give him enough space to transform quickly or the ghost would cause all kinds of problems.

"Ohhhhh riiiiiight," she said and Danny looked at her strangely. She threw up her hands to wave at him. "Oh nothing, nevermind," she said.

"I guess I must have imagined things," she said quickly. "Always doing that, you know? Imagining all sorts of things that aren't real. Well since there aren't any ghosts upstairs, I'm going to go to my room and finish my homework, okay?"

Before Danny could say anything, she answered herself. "Okay," she said. "I'm going now, and you can do whatever you want to do, bye!" she said before all but running up the stairs.

Danny watched her until she disappeared from view and heaved a sigh of relief now that he had the space to go ghost. It was really lucky that Jazz had left first, because none of the excuses he had been trying to come up with would have given him a non-suspicious reason to get out of the room.

But now he was alone and- "Time to go gh-"

He broke off when he heard a scream from upstairs, transformation rings fizzling out around him. "Jazz!"

The sound broke off abruptly, and the silence that followed seemed louder than the noise had been. All of the blood drained from his face and he forgot all about transforming.

"Jazz!" he yelled, bolting toward the stairs and taking them three at a time, scrabbling at the stairs as he went too fast, "JAZZ!"

She wasn't answering him and he was frantic by the time he got to her door and rattled the doorknob. It wasn't opening and she still wasn't answering him so he decided to throw caution to the wind, pressing through the door with his intangibility, not caring who saw him on the other side.

In the end, it didn't matter, though, because Jazz wasn't going to see him. Danny stopped short as soon as he opened his eyes in Jazz's room and saw her lying on the floor. The ghost, whoever it was, hadn't stuck around, but their handiwork was evident from the odd angles of Jazz's limbs and the long red streak across the carpet.

Tears started prickling at his eyes before he knelt down and reached for a wrist that no longer had a pulse.

The room began shifting and tilting under him at odd angles, and the faint buzzing in his ears grew louder and louder and louder and-

"Jazz," was the last thing he whispered before he fell to the floor beside her and his vision whited out…


End file.
